Folie à Deux
by legheads-lament
Summary: My first attempt at a multi chapter fic. This starts off from the well scene in Welcome to Storybrooke and goes AU from there. Will be Mad Queen. Rated T for safety.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Folie à Deux  
Author: Nikayla  
Genre: Angst initially  
Pairing: Regina/Jefferson, Mad Queen  
Set During: Welcome to Storybrooke (2x17)  
Rating: PG-13 (mostly for safety)  
Author's Notes: The title reflects not only the pairing (translated: A Madness Shared By Two) but also the format of the fic itself as I will be jumping POVs. I write in second person more often than not. Inner thoughts, past reflection, etc from a somewhat outside point of view. Like a conscience almost. It may eventually go third person but until then. Reviews would be lovely if you have the time :)

* * *

"_But there is something I can do._"

The spell falls from your fingertips almost inconsequentially, turning to ash as it hits the flame. You knew it wasn't the right thing to do, to force him to love you, but how else is anyone going to stand by your side now?

The look in his eyes is what did it. Made you make that decision, to prove to him that your love is real and he is the only thing that matters. It almost stuns you when he runs into her arms, but your expression doesn't falter. Only when they all turn to walk away do your eyes begin to turn glassy. Even your son is nearly oblivious to your pain.

You're lonely. Reminded more and more of that fact every time he walks away from you. Every time you do something good and the only thanks you receive is every back turning in unison to flee from you. The Evil Queen. With not a friend in the world. All that power and somehow, you've still ended up all alone.

* * *

Your insides feel hollow. All the time. It's an empty throb set deep behind your ribs. A blackened pit, airless and suffocating and you're so tired of feeling nothing and too much all at the same time. It's breaking you. This emptiness. You'd never admit it but one more night in this house and you'll lose it for sure. If you haven't already that is. Your eyes cast downward as a frown pulls at your lips and a tear drops out without permission. This was supposed to be your happy ending. You were supposed to win. (For once.) But every day is a cruel reminder of just how greatly you ended up losing. What a sick twist of fate. Your own curse damning you more than your victims. It just isn't fair.

It almost angers you that there's no one considerate enough to fight you. To kill you. To try to. If you can't have Henry then what is the point of all this? Of anything? _You would have been enough_. But you weren't were you? Aren't. For anyone. Perhaps not even yourself.

It's mocking you. This house. Pristine and white and soundless. Every step you take is a reminder of the past, of what you had, of what she now has. When he clung to her like he was afraid of you, even after you destroyed the curse, you realized just how much he isn't yours anymore. And the part of you that wonders if he ever will be again grows smaller and smaller. It was your last chance, that curse, and now it's gone. If bringing back Snow and his _mother_ wasn't enough to prove to him how much you had changed then what else is there? You're out of options. And losing hope. It's barely a flicker now. Soon it will be snuffed out entirely. And then what?

* * *

Why can't you have just one ally? Oh that's right. You did. And Snow insured you lost her in the cruelest way possible. Finalizing the trifecta really. Now every person who ever loved you died by your hand. No one left who has ever felt anything but disdain for you. For your very existence. Who you weren't merely a chess piece for. No one.

No. That's not entirely true, is it? There is one person who felt something else for you. Not quite love. But certainly not hate. Not always at least. Someone who may have actually liked you before all this. Your chest tightens at the thought. Someone who cared how you felt, who listened, who didn't try to make you something you were not. But he ruined it didn't he? He ruined it. He left you. You're fairly certain that of everyone, he who actually saw what you were before, who enjoyed what you were before, in a manner of speaking, is now someone who hates you more than any other. Another fate must be rearing its head in laughter.

You're tired of being alone. Presumed evil and yet nothing is done to try to end you is it? It's almost pathetic. To be told you are feared but then no one makes a move to rid this town of your threat. Do they really think you one at all? Surely to Snow of course, but do they even think you capable of another curse? Something to bring them all to their knees and put you on top of the throne again, wielding the whip that will forever lash at them? Do they really cower in fear anymore? Why is no one trying to stop you?

You ask yourself not in anger. You wish someone would try to stop you. To prevent your wrath from harming anyone again. You wish someone would just...end it. But none of them are strong enough. They hate you, and yet, you live on. It isn't really living anymore. What good is this with no one to share?

* * *

It's a quick decision. Nearly thoughtless. A puff of violet and there you are. It's almost too easy. Surely here you will be regarded as what you truly are. Surely here you will get what you deserve.


	2. Chapter 2

His estate is impressive. And it's also impressive that you can even be impressed anymore. A half-hearted smile tries to tug at your lips but it's unsuccessful. You don't know why you're here. Or you do and just don't want to admit it. This is a mistake but, at least it's a mistake that will get you somewhere. It's infuriating being so stagnant. Having no one pay you the courtesy of being angry to your face. It's all get in get out. Flee. No confrontation. Not really. Just means to ends and the ends come far too quick and are deliriously unsatisfying. At least here you will have a fair match. Someone angry enough, crazy enough to stand toe to toe with you.

He must have every single light in the house on. The glow from the windows against the night sky is nearly blinding. An electric hum cuts through the air, buzzing softly in your ears. He won't be happy to see you. You don't want him to be. What an unfortunate reflection of your past. That other lifetime. When all you wanted was for him to be happy to see you. So you might not feel so childish in your delight of seeing him. You were children then. Almost. Although you were in fact a Queen and Queens were certainly not to be children then were they. You were regal. Superior. And yet categorically inferior because none of it was your choice or want and yet it was thrust upon you anyway. You'd have gone mad if you hadn't found such a welcome distraction. That soon became much more than a distraction and even more welcome than you'd care to admit. Then, or now.

He was worldly. He'd seen things. Things you only dreamed of. He'd seen and touched and experienced the world. So many worlds. He was fascinating, and he was beautiful, and he thought _you_ beautiful. But not in the way the King or Snow or anyone in the royal court thought you beautiful. To him you were not just a face, or a glittering gown wrapped tight around a small and pleasing frame. To him you were a smile with downcast eyes, shying away from his appreciative gaze. You were skin he ached to kiss, to die for in every aspect. You were small hands and heart-shaped lips and every part of you meant something to him. In innumerable and different ways. He counted your freckles once. 43. And he kissed you for every one. He may have loved you then. And part of you must admit that you loved him. Cruel twist of fate really, that your second chance of love had to end so badly. Had to end at all. In quiet instances you nearly regretted leaving him in Wonderland. Or not attempting to bring him back. You actually considered it once. But nothing became of it. Your heart hurt too badly at the thought of seeing his face again. Seeing him hate you. As he surely would have. You couldn't deal with the prospect of being hated by someone that the little glimmer in your heart still loved. And so he remained.

You were surprised actually, that your curse had brought him too. It seemed to stretch farther than even you were aware. For a moment you thought maybe you could have another chance together. But that moment was shattered quickly when somehow, he remembered. How he had been able to retain his memories, another fateful and hateful jab from destiny. Another chance lost. He made certain you knew that he hated you. That you were the recurring nightmare that haunted and blackened his memories the minute he closed his eyes. That you were nothing but a source of anger now. That then was just that, _then_, dead and gone and spat upon. Never to be re-experienced. He was so angry. And for the life of you, you don't know why you expected anything different. Why you hoped for anything different. This was your path and always has been. The path of pain and loss and no more chances. The cruelest poetry ever to be written. Sick and demented calligraphy scrawled out in blood. The blood of a heart turned dark and beat-less. The blood of every person you loved and subsequently lost in the most horrible of ways. He was just another cobblestone on the path to your undoing. One you thought could be the turning point but only ended up pushing you faster and farther on your way.

It's merely a painful memory now. The feeling in your stomach when you knew he would be arriving soon. In this world they say it's akin to butterflies, and you can vouch for its validity. It felt like an entire swarm resided in you. It got harder to wait for his arrival. It got harder still once he had arrived, to carry on any sort of conversation, when all you wanted was to press your lips to his, and never look back.

For all your supposed power as Queen, and all your actual and discernible power as a sorceress, nothing seemed enough to quiet your mind of the deafening scream of how you longed to be free. Nothing, except, for him. He had many talents, you had learned, but this talent was something that was certainly unmatched by anyone or anything. He knew you. You let him know you. You told him things you wouldn't dare even tell your diary. He kissed you in places that were beyond physical. He made your heart feel safe. Like it could be as big as it wanted. No judgments. No controlling. No expecting you to be this way when you wanted to be that. He took you as you. He liked you as you. Aside from Daniel no one had ever really liked you for who you wanted to be. They liked the idea of you. The prospect after much molding of what you could be. The only molding he was interested in involved lips and a bed and a pleasant lack of clothing. The only thing he ever didn't like about you was magic. Which was not only unfair but ironic considering he hopped world to world using precisely that. He claimed it would change you. That it was changing you, that all magic comes with a price. You'd heard the phrase before but it held little bearing. He didn't push it. Not until it was too late.

He left on a long and tedious journey to, you didn't know where. When he came back, something was different. He pestered you about magic. He asked you to stop using it. To run away with him. He was intent. He wanted an answer then and there and when you laughed it off as him simply playing with you, that was the moment that everything was ruined. Had you known he was serious, had you known his intention maybe you would have gone about it differently. His expression changed to one that was so unreadable. He kissed you and it was the kiss you wish would have never happened. The goodbye. The dreaded and utterly dreadful kiss of so long, it's been fun, but now I'm leaving you.

You felt it in the way his lips were tight to yours. You tried to change it, tried to push it past what it was. Your hands slid up his chest to hold at his jaw but his hands grabbed your wrists before you were able. He stopped you. His decision was made. "What are you doing?" The words fell so innocently from your lips. Truly asking him why. His eyes said everything. And his mouth said the last thing you could possibly take at that moment. "I'm saying goodbye, Regina." Horror flooded your face. Absolute heartache rushed into your pupils and you had to fight yourself so hard not to cry. "Jefferson," his name came out in an attempted 'don't be silly' tone but his eyes never faltered. Never changed. "Why are you doing this?" The tears began to well up now, despite your greatest efforts. Your walls were never very steady around him. You had allowed them not to be and it was too late to train them now. "Jefferson, please. I can cut back on magic, if that's what you want, I can." But it was beyond bargaining. He looked at you with pity in his eyes. Pity. He pitied you. "Don't look at me like that. Jefferson, say something." He released your wrists, and straightened his scarf. He grew cold almost instantly. "What I want is for you to be happy", his tone was far too even, far too controlled and distant. It felt like pinpricks, needles poking right into your heart. "I'm just sorry you can't be happy with me." He cast you off in that moment. And it took all your strength not to crumble. What did he mean you couldn't be happy with him? You were happy with him. You were. You found as much of your voice as you were able, tried to put on the bravest face and waylay his doubt. "Jefferson, I am happy." The smile that followed was hollow and forced. You stepped forward and he mirrored it with a step back. He couldn't even look at you anymore. What had happened on this trip what had changed why was he doing this. All these questions and a million more pounded through your head and just when you focused on one and moved to voice it he cut you off. "I must be going. I'm sorry, Regina, for what it's worth." And with that he turned on a heel and was gone.

Later you would learn he had met someone on his trip. That someone became his wife. And mother to a daughter Grace. What did she have that you didn't? What about her was good enough to make a life with? Why had he tried to change you at the last minute only to give you less than that as time to respond before his decision was made and he was done with you and apparently right on to her? Why were you so disposable?

Why didn't he love you?

Staring at his entryway the questions are pounding again. But that isn't what you came for. Not directly. There must be a million things he can choose to yell at you about once you knock on that door. Why does all of this have to come back to you so vividly? Your hands clench into fists at your sides. Willing your resolve to come back to full working order. In a huff you take the three remaining steps up to his door, figuring once he sees you and starts his inevitable yelling these feelings will go away and you will be fine. You knock determinedly and hear his footsteps approaching quickly. He must not have been very far from the door. You steady your breathing just before he opens it. His face is all contempt nearly immediately. And you can see shadows under his eyes from lack of sleep. You hold his gaze and yours falters marginally. When you part your lips finally ready to speak he slams the door in your face before you can utter a syllable.

You don't know why you expected anything different.


	3. Chapter 3

Slam door.

Shatter vase.

It has been months. Months of fighting for your daughter. Fighting yourself for your daughter. No thanks to her. Her plan didn't go how she hoped and again you were made to suffer for it. Your breath comes out in hot puffs through your nose. How can she think she is welcome here? How can she think she is welcome anywhere at all?

Right. She's a Queen. And Queens think they are welcome everywhere don't they? Sorry, wrong number this time queenie, you will not have it. You're doing better. Trying to. For Grace. If you kill this woman as you strongly wish to do right now that certainly isn't doing better for her. Why did she come? What new manipulation does she have in store? What could she possibly think she can offer you now that you'd actually believe? A short laugh escapes you. Humorless. As it almost always is. The thought of her coming to you, for anything, is really just that. Laughable. Laughable that she thinks a threat, or vow hold anything on you anymore. You're past it. Past it all. You have Grace back. For the most part. And that is the only thing that keeps you here. Here being here and here being, sane. Relatively.

Although. She has magic now. That doesn't bode well. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, waiting for the door to fly off its hinges.

_Why did she come here?_

What could she possibly want, or even more preposterous _need_ from you now? What else do you have to give? What else are you _expected_ to give?

Expectation is never reality. But this is reality and she's out there, _expecting_. If you could just get out from under her claws, maybe you would have a fighting chance. But she's always there to remind you, dig them in deeper, and show you how little choice you have in anything. Any retaliation only fosters more from her in return and as the tables are not exactly equal anymore her retaliation is surely going to be much more effective than yours.

It didn't used to be like this. There didn't used to be a war going on in the short distance between you. You don't want to remember, but you do. Wonderland may have robbed you of your grip on sanity but it did little to rob you of the full color playback of your time before. Before. When little mattered to you. And what did resided almost wholly in just over 5 feet of honeyed skin and deep brown eyes filled with innocence and promise. Promises. You failed to keep the only one of those that really meant a thing. Butyoudon'twanttorememberthis. You shake your head, as if you could knock the memories out and watch them drop to the floor like marbles. And shatter them too. But you can't.

You picture her face on the opposite side of the oak and your guts twist involuntarily. Her expression was not that of a Queen or a witch or anything she is now. It was her. The other her. Trying to be strong and yet in front of you that never quite seems to work out how she hopes. There is always the drop. The miniscule misstep. The twitch that allows you and only you a glimpse in before she clamps it back shut and locks it all away. It's almost a sick reminder really. That face. That lie that tricks your brain into thinking she is in any part the girl you once, once... That she could have grown into this is the biggest lie of all. And yet it isn't. The biggest lie is that you had no part in it. The biggest lie is that your leaving didn't mean anything. You're not sure who tells the lie more. You, or her.

You don't want to know why she is here. Or why she looks so. No. You are done were done will always be done. There is nothing. _There is nothing._

And yet. You're surprised she has allowed you this much time before knocking pounding thrashing her way in. Perhaps. And this is a big perhaps and you will surely regret it when you aren't so angry. Perhaps hearing her out isn't the worst thing you could do right now. She's not going to leave. You know her better than that. She knows you know her better than that. But this is your show if it's going to be anything. You have a right fine mind to speak to her on a few matters of your own as it is.

You fling the door back open quickly, holding it ajar by an arm's width. "What are you doing here, Regina?" Her name comes out through nearly clenched teeth. You don't want to speak it. You don't want to speak to her at all. You don't want any of it. But you have a child to think about. And while killing the monster in front of you seems nearly too appealing, you fear that your inevitable lack of success would lead to you being the one nixed off this earth and that, just will not do. For Grace. You will hear what she has to say.


End file.
